


(Bury me Alive) because I won't give up without a fight

by armina_beta



Series: This Is Gospel [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Tony Stark, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Tony Stark, Italian Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Red Room (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armina_beta/pseuds/armina_beta
Summary: Tony’s first memories were of snarls and harsh slurs with kind hands and caring whispers. His second were blood splatters and pain and training. His third were of blood on his hands and guilt gnawing at his heart. His fourth, of music and of dance and friends. Of family. His last, his fifth, were of atonement and life and finally, were of freedom.Some are born greatSome achieve greatnessSome have greatness thrust upon themAnd some are all three.





	(Bury me Alive) because I won't give up without a fight

**Author's Note:**

> What makes night within us may leave stars - Victor Hugo

Tony’s first memories were of snarls and harsh slurs with kind hands and caring whispers. His second were blood splatters and pain and training. His third were of blood on his hands and guilt gnawing at his heart. His fourth, of music and of dance and friends. Of family. His last, his fifth, were of atonement and life and finally, were of freedom. Tony could split his life into 5 parts. Not many could do that, their life blurring together, one thing leading to another, causing something else that when they came to separate them into parts it was all just one long flowing river. Maybe this was another way Tony was different. Because in his mind, his memories were sectioned, separated. His life before the Red Room, His life in the Red Room, Red Room missions, After the Red Room, and Now. First, let’s revisit Before

* * *

It was a short time, Before. Only a few years but they were filled with conflicting memories. Harsh slurs in one, caring whispers in another. Rough, pain-inducing hands versus soft caring ones. So in the end I guess it was good when Before ended and the Red Room started. His memories were stable, his uncertainty vanishing. He knew what he was to do and he did as per his orders requested. That was Life. For now at least.

* * *

 

The Red Room disallowed friends, family. It was against orders, so shouldn’t he punish himself? However, whenever he looked at him, the second person to ever show him pure friendship, he shut his mouth and agreed to whatever his friend fellow trainee said, even if it was derogatory to his trainers.

* * *

It took a while, nearly a year in fact, before he realized the mind control the red room had over him. With his fellow trainee’s friend’s help however, he managed to push those thoughts away and vowed to stop anyone else from succumbing to it as soon as he could. There were those that had been here for years before him and were too indoctrinated and there were those that even though they had arrived after him, he was too late to help as the trainers usually kept him apart from other newcomers. However he did manage to save one person. A girl, his age, that had flaming red hair and who became almost a sister to him. She was a different program but they kept them together and though they could see them being compromised, they left the apparent acquaintances alone. And that was where things started to go downhill. Well, for them.

* * *

 

Blood dripped from his hands every time he glanced at them, no matter how many times he scrubbed them raw. Pale hands always joined his tanned ones and smaller ones always dragged them away from the sink. 

Pause. Breathe. Mask. Confirm. Shoot. Return. Debrief. Rinse. Repeat

* * *

 

Run.

Music wafted around them, money tossed into the paper cup laid before him. It fed them tonight. Tomorrow's dinner would be paid for in blood. But at least this time. It was on their own terms.

* * *

 

For there to be happiness, there must be suffering. To know what you have is good, you must know what it's like to have the bad. One cannot exist on its own. Peace and war. Love and hate. Life and death. Perhaps for them to be here, now, together, they needed to be broken. They needed to be torn apart. Because without it, they wouldn't have known what it's like to be whole.


End file.
